


Summertime

by henley_sarah



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Based on a My Chemical Romance Song, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Consensual Underage Sex, Cunnilingus, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Learning Disabilities, Makeup, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Mycroft's Meddling, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Sex, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Being Considerate, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes Being a Good Friend, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Shotgunning, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 03:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henley_sarah/pseuds/henley_sarah
Summary: It's something I can't know 'til now'Til you pick me off the groundWith a brick in hand, your lip-gloss smileYour scraped-up knees, andIf you stay, I would even wait all nightOr until my heart explodesHow long until we find our wayIn the dark and out of harm?You can run away with meAnytime you want...





	1. Chapter 1

I always dreaded the first day of school. Honestly, who didn't?

I was one of the first people in my Economics class, a required class for some reason, and I was trying to recognize some other students in here out of curiosity as I pretended to read.

There were some I recognized from past classes and a lot of new faces. The teacher went over the roll, and I paid a little attention to students who corrected their names or gave nicknames. Like me. My first name was William, but I preferred Sherlock, my first middle name.

One that caught my attention was a Miss Basil Pitch, who shortened her name to Baz. She was in my year, and I've had some classes with her previously.

Freshman year World History, she was in there with me, and I only took note of her because there was a group of kids who would hang out in the History room in the morning before the bell rang, and she was in the group with them. I also keenly remembered her because she had a boyfriend for about six months freshman year, and I distinctly remembered he tried to kiss her goodbye one morning, and she looked absolutely disgusted with it.

She was in my Advanced Placement World History class in sophomore year as well, and she hated our teacher and was very open about it. Our teacher that year accused her of plagiarism on an essay, and she insisted she didn't and dropped the class five weeks before the end of school. I was a little shocked, mainly because I had stolen her 'plagiarised' essay and read it myself. Not a thing was plagiarised, and I did extensive research for it, too.

So I brought the matter up with the teacher, who offered to let me skip all of his exams if I kept my mouth shut. I told him that was fine, but he also had to give her the credits for the class, forcing her to pass.

I, of course, never told her this.

And now here she was in my Econ class. Later in the day, I was also early to my Latin Three class. Technically it was Honors Latin Three, but there were no other Honors Latin students in the school, so they grouped me in with the regular class, the teacher would give me more work, which I was fine with.

I sat in the back by myself, because who honestly needed friends, and who should walk in with her huge metal cup filled with whatever she drank, and her bag than Baz.

"Baz, hey." One of the athletes in the opposite corner of the room called.

Her lip curled. "The Gods are testing me." She sighed.

"Love you too." He just smiled at her, and she hummed and took the seat in front of him. "So are you going to take over this class and dictate like you did last year?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet." She hummed and looked at her nails, then eyed the old woman in the front of the room.

I was a little interested to see what he meant by that.

The next day with the next round of classes, I found she was in my History class yet again. She apparently had a lot more friends in this class, as she was already joking around with two guys, making another girl laugh. Most of their jokes were directed to another guy, but he didn't seem to mind being made fun of.

The teacher sat us alphabetically, I wasn't anywhere near her as I was H and she was P. She was, however, seated near her friends, and the teacher soon learned that that was probably a mistake and would be a distraction. He didn't move them, though, and I assumed his need for order was just too strong.

For some weeks, I didn't pay her much attention at all, maybe a glance here and there when she wore something out of the ordinary, did her makeup a bit bolder, or wore heeled boots that looked impossible to walk in.

I didn't expect to become intrigued with her, and actually interested to know more about her.

It wasn't until she came into Latin one day from study hall, which was after the first period, our Econ class, which we had every day.

She walked in, sat down in her usual seat, then gave a small groan as she went to the smallest pocket of her backpack and took out a compact mirror and a tube of bronze lipstick she wore.

"You good?" A girl that sat beside her asked.

"The formula for this shit is awful. It doesn't stick to... fucking anything. I hate this brand." Baz groaned as she opened the mirror to touch up her lipstick.

Baz was a girl who wore a lot of makeup. And she wasn't exactly bad at it either, in my opinion. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a passion or a hobby of hers. I've heard a word or two of her talking to others about new releases from certain brands she was excited for and formulas for... whatever. So she knew what she was talking about, in the least.

"Baz, put that away. You're just as pretty without it." Our Latin snapped at her.

I couldn't see Baz's face, but the way she slowly turned and stared at the old woman, I didn't want to see the look on her face. She swiped a little more to clean up her bottom lip, then closed the compact mirror with a loud snap and tucked the two.

Not a moment later, she turned to her friend, facing away from the teacher.

"She's never seen me without makeup? How can she judge what I look like without it, if she's never seen me without it?" Baz asked softly, and her friend just snickered. "The fuck kind of logic is that?"

I think that's when I decided I wanted to be her friend.


	2. Baz

I was a little confused when the dude who usually sits across the Econ room was in the seat next to the chair I sat in. I didn't care that much though, and sat my bag on the table with my huge ass drink and sat down.

I took the book I was currently reading out and flipped it open to the page I was on and slumped back.

I read for a bit before the bell rang and the teacher called for us to answer the warm up. I closed the book and set it aside, not done with it, and got out my binder and got a piece of paper out.

Now I could finally ask what the fuck the board said. Goddamn bad eyesight.

"Hey," I hummed and the curly haired dude who's name I think was Sherlock turned to look at me. "Can you tell me what that says?"

He read me the question, and I wrote it down, and the answer below it.

"Why don't you have glasses?" He asked, and I noticed how his accent was a lot posher than mine.

"I used to wear glasses. It just seemed like no matter how many times I went to get them resized, they'd squeeze the sides of my head and give me headaches. Also, the nose breakouts were super annoying." I hummed. "So now I just deal with it." I gave a small shrug.

He gave a small hum and looked at me again. "I'm Sherlock."

"Baz." I gave him a polite smile.

He didn't say much for the rest of the class, but after I got some food from my gullible friend, I stepped into Latin and saw Sherlock in the seat that was usually empty to my right.

"Should I be expecting in all our classes?" I smiled as I sat down.

"Not History." He just watched me.

"No, I suppose not." I hummed.

Shular, my jock friend, came in and to my desk. "Baz, can I borrow your flashcards?"

"You're an idiot if you think I did flashcards." I shook my head. "We've been through a year of this, Shular. Have I ever brought flashcards when they're due?" I just blinked at him.

"Suppose not." He sighed, and Eli behind me said he could borrow his. Shular went to the row behind me, and I rolled my eyes.

"You should bring stuff in when it's due." Sherlock just said.

"Oh my God, if you're going to lecture me..."

"I'm not. I'm just saying." Sherlock shrugged.

"Too bad. I don't care enough." I said.

Most of our Econ and Latin classes went like this. He read me the board in Econ, and sometimes gave me the answer for the hell of it. He also helped me a lot in Latin. Not because I was bad at Latin, no, I was fine in Latin. I was just lazy.

He was transferred into my English class for whatever reason, and sat next to me there, too. Sherlock was a little shocked to learn that I was the best in this class, and I swear to God he said: "not for long."

He didn't sit near me in History, but I caught him throwing me looks when Steven, Eric, and I were being little shits. I'd grown up with the two; Eric and I have known each other since we were five, and Steven since we were ten or something. We made fun of the guy in front of Steven, who I've also known forever, but he was annoying as fuck, so we picked on him almost nonstop. Steven and I also took great pleasure in messing with the girl two seats behind me, Gabby. Nothing too bad, just making her laugh uncontrollably and blush in embarrassment.

Steven liked to come into class, and if Gabby wasn't at her seat yet, he'd lie on top of her desk and not get up for the longest. Sometimes I joined him, sometimes I sat in her chair, sometimes I just sat back with Eric and watched.

Today was a day when the lesson ended early, and our History teacher had no other plans, so we just had free time. What were the three of us doing? Picking on George, the guy in front of Steven, because he wouldn't shut up on something he knew nothing about.

"Must you pick on him?" Sherlock came over and leaned on my desk.

"Yes." I smiled.

"Why?"

"Because he's actually awful and deserves it. And it's funny." I gave a small shrug.

"Fuck you, too." George just said to me, and I gave him a smile.

"I actually hate you." I just hummed.

After History, I went to my Creative Writing class and fucked around in there. We were told to write in our journals about a person, and the person on my mind was Sherlock.

So I wrote some shit about how he was a literal genius, but so annoying with his nagging.

We were told to take everything we put down about said person and turn it into a poem. I contemplated titling my poem, "Bitch, I'll Turn In My Work When I Want To." But this was a school, so I couldn't do that.

My poem, after that thought, was just thoughts I had throughout the day about Sherlock or concerning Sherlock. Shit like, "I swear to God if you start lecturing me," "I'll turn it in when I want to, Jesus Christ," "No, I do not need your help on this... wait, can you tell me what that one is?" And some others.

We got a chance to read our drafts out loud to the class if we wanted to, and I thought mine was pretty funny, and so I read it.

Everyone seemed to agree.


	3. Sherlock

After realizing that the two guys Baz was with in History were her childhood friends, I realized another thing, too.

Our school district is an odd one. The lines are drawn funny. The school itself is in a "classier" part of town, and so everyone that lived around for some miles attended the school, as it was their home school. But the district lines were drawn so that there was a mile or so of land about thirty minutes away in a... lesser part of town where everyone that lived in that vicinity attended as it was technically, their home school as well.

It was quite easy to pick out who lived where in school. The richer kids made it known who they were. The kids from the other side of town, you could pick them out somewhat easily, but some surprise you when you find out they're from that part of town.

Baz was this person for me.

I was still working on my deductive skills, wanting to show Mycroft up one day, but I could easily tell Eric and George were from that part of town. Steven was a little harder, but after a once-over, I had him figured out, too. And it only clicked that since Baz was their childhood friend, she was from that side, too.

Not that I had a problem with it, I was just surprised. With all the makeup she has, some of the shoes and jackets she wears... I know they're not exactly cheap. She got some new shoes for her birthday in October, and I memorized the style and found that one pair sold for eighty dollars, and the other for one twenty.

So, yes, I was a little surprised to know she lived in the town with higher crime rates, lower real estate prices, and such.

"You know," I started one morning in Econ, not having completely thought this through. "You're not like most others from your town."

She looked up from her book, confused. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, you don't sound like them..." I said and she gave a dry chuckle that quieted me.

"You mean I don't sound uneducated." She turned back to her book.

What? "No, that's not what I-"

"Yes, it is." Baz set her book down as she spoke in a harsh tone that made me shut up quick. Her eyes were hard and her jaw was set, and I was honestly a little scared.

"That's exactly what you meant. You mean I don't talk stupid, I don't dress like a poor person." She glared at me. "And you know, I thought you weren't like all the other rich people, either, but turns out, apparently you are. You generalize us, middle class, all the same. You don't give a single thought to why we can't afford mansions and shit, you don't even think about the definition of fortunate because you're too wrapped up in your own fortune."

I was going to argue, but then I understood her point.

"I'm sorry." I apologized softly.

"Better be." Baz just huffed and went back to reading.

She was right, too. Maybe she did live in a better place before that town. I had no way of knowing why she was in the class she was in. And I guess I did sort of generalize that part of town as being dumber, poorer, all that.

I didn't speak to Baz for the rest of Econ, but I did give her answers in Latin, hoping that would maybe make up for my mistake. I saw Baz smile softly and shake her head as she took down answers.

It wasn't until the end of Latin where she spoke to me again.

"It's cute." She had a little smirk on her lips, a mauve color today.

"What is?" I asked.

"Your way of saying sorry. It's cute." Baz gave a tiny shrug with one shoulder.

"So you forgive me?" I grew a little hopeful.

"Sure." Baz hummed. "It's bad to generalize people, Sherlock."

"I know." I nodded, and I was suddenly reminded of Mycroft. "You need to yell at my brother."

"Yeah? What's he done?" Baz asked with a smile.

"Mycroft, he's smarter than I am. Shoves it in my face all the time." I gave a small eye roll. "He believes that since he has a higher IQ, all 'common people' are less than him. He's said it's like living in a world of goldfish." I said.

"Forget yelling at him. I'll kick his ass." Baz said, and it was my turn to grin.

"He's a bit too fat for you to do that," I said, and Baz laughed. I chuckled a little at her laugh, happy that we were on good terms again.

"Ooh! I got it!" Baz had a big smile on her face. "I've got this cousin, covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings, he's got gauges, the lot. He's a wrestler, he can kick your brother's ass." She nodded, making me laugh a bit.

"I would pay good money to see that." I nodded, just the thought, the mental picture, that was entertaining enough.

"You don't get along with your brother?" She asked.

"Not really." I shook my head, and she kissed her teeth.

"Sorry to hear that. That sucks." She hummed.

"Do you have siblings?" I asked, wondering if she got along with them.

"A half brother, but I haven't seen him since I was eight. I think he'd prefer it if I didn't exist." Baz said thoughtfully, and I was wondering how she could even say something like that with a smile on her face.

Then, it was almost like the words formed themselves in front of me, by her head.

Depressed. Medicated.


	4. Chapter 4

It was getting harder and harder to not notice how tired Baz was.

She had her Math class before English, and she came into the room looking irritated just about every time.

Today was no different.

"I'm going to kill myself." Baz sighed as she set her bag down. "I'm either going to kill myself or Ms. whatever her face is."

"Who?" I asked.

"My math teacher." She answered blankly, then grabbed her drink and went with me to the lunch room.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked, and Baz snagged our usual booth. Baz didn't answer that question, she just continued to look angry. "Baz?"

"Nothing's wrong with her, not really. It's me." Baz rolled her eyes and crossed her arms on the table and put her head on them. "I'm a fucking idiot. I'm just stupid. That's it."

"You are not." I immediately protested. "Baz, you have perfect grades in English. Your History and Econ grades are good, too. You're not stupid."

"I am in math." She grumbled. "My mom thinks I have some learning disability." She sighed, speaking very softly.

"Is it just with math?" I asked and she nodded. "Probably dyscalculia." I hummed, trying to remember which was which.

"Huh?" Baz looked up.

"Dyscalculia. It's like number dyslexia." I said.

"Number dyslexia. That's what she called it." Baz nodded. "But, I've got no diagnosis, so for now I'm just stupid."

"Baz, stop saying that, you're not stupid." I sighed. "If you want, I can help you with math."

She looked up at me, then sat up and grabbed my hand. "I will do literally anything if you do."

I smiled a little. "You don't have to do anything. Do you want to come over to mine, or have me come to yours?"

"I'll go to yours. My mom would freak out no matter what we told her." Baz said. "Your parents know you're smart, tutoring would be normal there."

"You make it sound like we wouldn't be tutoring." I raised an eyebrow at her, and Baz just smiled around her straw.

"Ignore me. I'm a Libra, we're all flirts." She grinned.

"Oh God, don't tell me you're one of those Zodiac crazy people." I groaned, but Baz only laughed.

"Nah, I just like to blame shit on shit other than myself." She gave a shrug, and I chuckled. Yeah, she did like to put the blame for anything on something other than herself.

So she came home with me and asked if she could use the phone. I nodded and set up as she punched in a number, then asked for "Pitch, twenty-three nineteen," and waited for a moment.

"Hey, mom. It's me. Listen, I'm at a friend's house for tutoring, don't know how long, but I do promise to come home. So if I don't come home, then you can call the police. See you later, bye."

She hung up, and I chuckled a little at her message. "What?" She asked as she came into the living room where I had set up a little on the coffee table. I just shook my head, and she rolled her eyes and handed me her math notebook.

She never took notes in Econ, a little for Latin, and we didn't take notes in English, so I had no idea what her other notes looked like. I now found out that Baz was a very good note taker. Her handwriting was neat (and pretty, honestly), she took notes in bullet points with Headings and subheadings underlined. She even took down graphs and circles important formulas. I was honestly very impressed.

She sat quietly as I flipped through to the last entry, today's, to figure out what they were on in her class. I was in an Advanced Placement Trigonometry, she was in Comprehensive Algebra Two. This would be nothing to me.

And that sort of scared me. Because if she was really, truly struggling with something I found incredibly simple, I was afraid I might lose patience with her, and that just wasn't fair to Baz.

I read a little over and sat next to her, and got an extra notebook of mine for her. I explained it as easy as I knew how and showed her alternative ways to solve the problems, and gave her a couple to solve.

I must've lost track of time, because mum and dad were coming home, and it didn't feel like three hours had passed at all. I panicked a little internally, I obviously wasn't going to let it show, because dad would probably be fine with me tutoring a girl, but mum? I had no idea what mum would do.

"Oh. What are you two up to?" My dad came in.

"Schoolwork. Baz, my dad. Dad, Baz." I decided not to mention the fact we were friends, or I would never hear the end of it. Oh, Sherlock's finally made friends, how fun. Shut up.

"Nice to meet you, Baz." He gave her a kind smile.

"You, too, sir." Baz smiled at him, then slid the notebook to me. "Please tell me I did that right."

I pursed my lips as I looked over it, and heard her swear under her breath. "No, no. It's alright. Just a simple mistake, anyone could make it. Here..."

Dad left the living room as I pointed out where she messed up and what to look out for. I gave her another problem and watched her bite her lip as she tried again.

"You've got it." I smiled, my hand meeting her back, and I had no idea why I was touching her until I was touching her.

"Finally." Baz sighed in relief with a smile on her face. "I was about to walk out and shoot myself or something..."

"Yeah, I don't think my parents would appreciate you committing suicide in our house," I said, making her snicker.

"I don't think I'd be invited back." Baz went on, her smile only growing bigger.

"Oh, definitely not." I agreed, just now realizing how much of a fan I was of her dark humor.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take me long to figure out that Baz wasn't only tired from dealing with her math class, that was very obviously taking a toll on her, but something else was too that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

It started when she showed up to school in significantly lighter makeup and joggers instead of her usual jeans. One quick glance at her T-shirt told me she didn't bother with a bra today, either.

I didn't ask, not wanting to offend her. Maybe she didn't get enough sleep last night or something.

But it stayed like that for a week. And all throughout that week, she never once came over for help with math. She always she was busy, had stuff to deal with.

I grew worried. Not only because she was my only friend, but also because it was just clear to me that something was wrong. She seemed off, distracted, on edge.

On Friday, it was eating at me for not asking if she was alright.

So after History in the lunch room, I asked. Baz looked up at me with a smile I saw right through and said she was fine.

"Don't lie to me," I said and her face fell.

"What? Just because I look a little different..."

"I don't care what you look like, Baz." I cut her off. "You haven't been acting like yourself at all this week, and I'm worried."

"It's just a bit of an off week for me." Baz tried again, and I shook my head.

"Please, Baz," I begged, and now she didn't even want to look at me. "Come over. Talk to me where it's just us."

She slowly nodded, and I gave a small sigh in relief.

It was hard to focus in my Physics class after that, and when she sat next to me on the bus, dead silent, I for some reason had the urge to grab her hand. For her comfort or mine, I wasn't sure.

I lead her into my room, which I'd probably be yelled at for later, but we had three hours. I just had to keep track of time this time.

I gestured to my bed after she set her bag on the floor, and Baz went over and sat down. I got the chair from my desk and wheeled it over and sat in front of her.

"Talk to me," I said softly, and Baz had started to tear up.

"You'd never understand." She shook her head, and I heard her voice crack. Something in me broke at seeing her so vulnerable, so hurt, and I reached over and held out the box of tissues for her. She took one with a sniffle and folded it a few times, and dabbed under her eyes.

"Tell me anyway. I want to help you. I want to be there for you." I said, watching her with careful eyes as she sniffled.

"It's... it's my dad." She sniffled, and my brows twitched. I've never heard her talk about her dad before. I just assumed she didn't have a father.

"What's he done? Is he hurting you?" I began to fear for the worst but calmed when she shook her head.

"No. He, uh... it's hard to explain." Her watery hazel eyes met mine.

"I'm listening," I assured her, and Baz nodded again.

"Uh, my mom kicked him out when I was three after he bankrupted us. Dad's always had problems with money. He spends way too much on shit he doesn't need, like bikes and guitars. He blows it away on drugs and drinks... and he just left us broke. So she kicked him out, we had to move, my grandma gave us a house... it was a mess. They got divorced, but he just... he can't stay the fuck away." The tears spilled over her cheeks.

"He comes around a couple of times a year to ask for money as if he hasn't already taken enough." She rolled her eyes. "And my mom... she's a small woman, she can't fight him off..." Baz's lip started wobbling, and she didn't say any more.

I leaned forward and brought her into a hug, and Baz let me hug her, and she wrapped her arms around me as well. I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her, and also trying not to get distracted by how good she smelled.

I wanted to offer my help, but what could I do? It wasn't my decision to get the police involved in their matter. I couldn't really do anything at all.

"I'm here for you." I decided on saying as I held her. "Whatever you need to talk about, even if you think it's insignificant, I don't care. Talk to me. About anything." I made that very clear for her to understand.

"Yeah." She sniffed and nodded against my shoulder. "Yeah, you too, okay?"

"Okay." I smiled a little, then pulled back and saw she looked a little better. "You're alright?"

"I'm better." She nodded. "Thank you."

"Anytime." I nodded.

She was then back to her usual self, but with red eyes and still a little sniffy. "So, how deep will your parents bury you for having a girl in your room?" She asked.

I looked over and checked the time, seeing we were safe. "I plan to go down about twenty minutes before they get back and make it look like we were working on something."

"Classic." Baz nodded with a little smile.

I loved that little smile.


	6. Baz

December had come, I was all good, and Sherlock looked panicked one morning.

"Whoa. Hey, are you okay?" I grabbed his arm and turned him towards me.

"My parents want me to invite you over for Christmas." He said and my brows rose.

"Okay, and?"

"Mycroft is going to be home for Christmas." Those blue-green eyes of his widened drastically. "You have no idea the shit I'll get if he knows about you."

I just stared at him, utterly confused.

"Baz." He scooted closer to me and took my hand. "You're the first friend I've had... ever. Mycroft is the guy who thinks he's above everybody else. You cannot imagine the things he'll say about me having a 'normal' friend." Sherlock said, and I actually laughed a little.

"You are stressing so much more than you need to be, Sherlock," I said. "I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come over for the break. Like, maybe not every day, but often." I offered.

"No, I will come over every day if it means I get to be away from him." Sherlock quickly nodded, and I grinned. I then grabbed his notebook and wrote my address down in it for him.

"Hope you don't run screaming when you see me without all this icing on."

So when winter break came, Sherlock came over every day while my mom was at work. She knew he was coming over while she was gone, and she gave me lectures every morning before she left for work.

"Mom, I'm on birth control because I have cramps. I'm still a virgin, and I plan on staying a virgin for a bit longer!" I groaned.

So when Sherlock came over, I told him that conversation, and he laughed a bit. I had mom convinced we'd stay downstairs in the living room and kitchen, but that was obviously a lie. His coat, scarf, and shoes stayed downstairs. But my bed was more comfortable than our couch, so we lied around up in my room.

Sherlock was so impressed with all the books mom and I had. We did spend a lot of time just reading books together in silence, and I didn't mind at all. It was a dream come true for me; endless tea and hot chocolate, all the junk food, stacks of books to read, and some company that enjoyed being around me.

I said I planned on staying a virgin, but I was very easily tempted. I mean, eight hours alone at home with a boy I was close to? How could I not be tempted?

I still wore sweaters and joggers and flannel everything, but in case the books were ever put down, I did wear my best pairs of underwear constantly.

I had no fucking idea of how Sherlock was so calm in my room. With me. Alone. Maybe he just didn't see me that way. That was always a possibility.

I was pretending to read, turning a page every two or three minutes, but really I was thinking about how I could figure out if he liked me or not.

Maybe I could do some of that Libra flirting and see how he reacts?

I marked the page and closed the book. "You hungry? I'm thinking about ordering a pizza."

"Hm, sure. What kind?" Sherlock looked up and I smiled.

"You ever had spinach alfredo pizza?" I asked and he shook his head. "Spinach as a pizza topping is seriously underrated. It's a white pizza, tons of cheese, spinach."

"I'll try it." He nodded.

"Cool. And in case you hate it, should I get a cheese pizza?" I asked, standing up to go down to the kitchen and call.

"Yeah, cheese is fine," Sherlock said, and I went down, placed the order, and got us some cocoa refills. As I did so, I then began wondering if a little peek of skin would make him react.

I reached up, and sure enough, my sweater revealed my midriff. I tugged my pants down an inch or so to fit snug around my hips for, ahem, good measure, then counted out some money to pay the dude and tip him.

When the doorbell rang, I smiled. "Sherlock! Food's here!" I called as I went to the door. I opened up, took the boxes and handed the guy the money, wished him a good day, and handed Sherlock the boxes so I could lock back up.

He set them on the stove, and plates were on the top shelf, so I reached up to grab those, feeling the cool air on my skin as I grabbed two, and brought them down. I handed him one and pretended to not see the faint pink on his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

I watched with excited eyes as he tried the spinach alfredo pizza, and Sherlock hummed thoughtfully.

"It's pretty good." He decided and I set my slice down and cheered in victory.

"I knew you'd like it!" I grinned. "My goal is to get as many people as I can into liking spinach on pizza. I need more people out there who put spinach on pizza." I said, and Sherlock just laughed at me.

So we ate pizza until we were stuffed, and put leftover slices in the fridge for tomorrow, as Sherlock made me promise not to eat any without him, he was keeping count.

So I got a blush and some laughs out of Sherlock. I call that a win.


	7. Chapter 7

When Christmas day came, I did my face up perfectly, but to look presentable for Sherlock's family. I don't know how well they would take to me showing up in blood red glittering lipstick and huge ass fake lashes.

So I kept it a bit calm. Rosy neutral eyes, tiny wing just for definition, soft brows, natural lashes for that extra shit I needed. Soft contour and blush, a little highlight, and a long wear no smudge nude lip.

Sherlock told me to not dress up. There was no use in trying to impress anyone, they'd just see right through it. So I wore a regular red Christmas sweater and some black jeans. Not much to look into there.

For gifts, Sherlock said I didn't have to get them anything, I said bullshit. So he said a tie would do for his father, and he gave a book title and author to get from his mom. He had a list he was going to get her, I could take a book from it. Worked for me.

So, when I was all ready, I had the gifts in a bag and put my jacket on, and hailed a cab, telling the driver the address.

I worked on calming my nerves the whole ride, and all my nerves were gone when we pulled up to the house and I saw Sherlock staring out the window, looking so bored, until the cab stopped outside, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

I paid the cabbie, grabbed the bag, and walked up to the door, which Sherlock was already holding open for me.

"Thank God. I've had to listen to Mycroft's bragging all fucking morning." He hissed as I took my jacket off, and I gave him a little smile.

"Merry Christmas to you, too." I just said.

Sherlock's face fell into a smile, and he took my jacket. "Merry Christmas, Baz."

"Is that Baz?" I heard his father call. Sherlock nodded me to the kitchen after hanging up my jacket and closing the door, and lead me in.

"Hello, Merry Christmas." I greeted to be polite. Mr. Holmes looked just as he did every day, Mrs. Holmes was a touch more festive with a glittering red scarf and red bow-shaped earrings. Sherlock just looked as he did every day; dark button up shirt, black pants. And the one who I guessed was Mycroft was... not as fat as I was expecting. Maybe a little pudgy in the middle, judging from his suit he wore, but that was it, really.

"Merry Christmas, dear. Oh, don't tell me you brought presents." Mrs. Holmes has warmed up to me a bit.

"I didn't want to show up empty-handed. Especially not after you've been so hospitable." I smiled and handed the two their presents.

"Let me grab yours," Sherlock said before I could even get his out of the bag. He left the kitchen and came back with two in his hands, and we traded, me handing him his.

I fawned over the leatherbound thick ass notebook from Mr. and Mrs. Holmes before I opened Sherlock's, and saw these fancy ass pens in black, and every color of the rainbow.

"Your notes were looking a bit dull," Sherlock said, and I smiled a bit.

"I seriously underestimated how much I'd be writing this year." I shook my head at myself. "Doesn't exactly help that I take both an English class and a Creative Writing class, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. Those are also refillable. Cartridges are... somewhere in there." Sherlock shrugged and turned over the books I got him in his hands.

"Sorry, but I don't let people borrow my books." I shrugged. "I don't even let my mom borrow my books."

"Control freak," Sherlock muttered, and I almost hit him.

I thanked his parents for the notebook, and they thanked me in turn because of manners. I affectionately nudged with my elbow and said thanks, and he smiled a little, then looked behind me to his brother.

"Mycroft, whatever you're planning on saying, don't." He warned.

"No worries. It's Christmas." The man just smiled. "I'm trying to figure out where the kindest place to begin is."

"You are not deducing her." Sherlock's tone got nasty, and I turned and saw his parents had gone, and from the noise, I guessed they were in the dining room.

"I'm deducing the both of you." Mycroft just smiled. It was like watching a tennis match, really, my eyes flickering from one brother to the other.

"Should I start with your pining, your jumping when her cab pulled up, the flirtatious teasing between you two, or how her clothes say she's not looking to impress anyone, but her makeup says differently." Mycroft hummed thoughtfully.

"I do not pine, I was waiting for her to arrive so I could stop listening to you go on and on about elections, there is no flirting, and that's how she looks every day," Sherlock said, getting somewhat red in the face with anger.

"Okay. Um. How about no one say anything and we forget all this and maybe save it for a day that isn't Christmas?" I suggested.

Mycroft looked me over, and I felt analyzed. He gave me a small smile and stood.

"Forget what?" He said as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Asshole." Sherlock hissed, and I touched his shoulder.

"Calm down, Sherlock," I said softly, and he looked at me and calmed. I smiled and let my hand fall from his shoulder. I gathered my gifts in the bag and put the bag with my jacket by the door, and Sherlock got us both mugs of tea and lead me to the living room couch where we sat and talked, forgetting the world until lunch.

So, a pretty good holiday. One of the better Christmases I've had.


	8. Chapter 8

After Christmas and New Year's, it was Sherlock's birthday on the sixth. He said he wanted to spend his seventeenth with me just hanging out, which I am always down for.

So on the sixth, it was still winter break, the last few days of break, he came over when my mom went to work. I greeted him with a happy birthday and a big hug, and he laughed a little and hugged me back tightly.

"We are doing whatever you want today," I told him as he took off his coat, scarf, and shoes.

"Uh..." Sherlock started, looking somewhere between nervous and confused. "I'm feeling lazy. We could watch a movie or something. And I want you to pick the movie. Do not make me pick, I will choose something awful."

I chuckled and nodded, leading him up to my room, and I picked up The Breakfast Club and put it in, because how the fuck have you not watched Breakfast Club, Sherlock?

We propped my pillows up and got under my sheets and blankets for comfort and warmth. I noticed Sherlock seemed to be thinking about something.

"What's up?" I asked softly.

"I just uh... I have a sort of odd request." He admitted, and my brows rose.

"Let's hear it," I said, keeping calm.

"Can I hold you?" He asked, biting his lip. "I've wanted to get closer to you for a while now, I just... didn't know..." He mumbled, and I nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, alright. Hold me how? Because, I mean, there's a lot of ways." I chuckled.

"Um, we'll figure it out. Here." Sherlock brought his arm up, and I moved closer, putting myself under his arm. He pulled me slightly closer, right up against him, and I got myself comfy.

"Good?" I asked and he nodded, blushing a bit.

We switched positions a couple of times during the movie and a whole lot during the day. And the day was mostly us lying in my bed, talking about random shit, curled up together. There were times where his arms were around my waist and we were chest to chest talking about how the Titanic was fake, both of us curled together as we talked about our latest dreams, and once where Sherlock was a big spoon, listening to me talk about how much I hated Daisy from The Great Gatsby, his arm holding me to him, and his other hand playing in my hair.

I played with his hair an awful lot that day, too. Sherlock had soft hair, and just about the bounciest curls you can imagine.

There came a point where we were just lying face to face, Sherlock's arm draped across my waist, our legs tangled together. I was so warm and comfortable, I was growing sleepy.

"Hey, can you reach over and set my alarm clock to go off in like, an hour?" I asked, and Sherlock reached over and did so. "I'm just gonna tap out... you're really comfy." I sighed as I let my eyes close, and didn't let them reopen.

When my alarm went off an hour later, I groaned, and Sherlock turned it off for me. I was now curled up to his chest, both of his arms around me, with his chin on my head. He had apparently dozed off too and gave a deep sigh.

Now that I was so close, I noticed how good he smelled. He smelled like clean things; laundry detergent, soap, clean cotton.

I forced myself awake and stretched a little, and gave a little yawn. "I need caffeine." I sighed and made myself sit up. I checked the time and saw we had an hour and a half until my mom got home.

I went down and got us some diet coke cans, and brought them back up.

"Thanks. You dream about anything?" Sherlock asked as he cracked his open.

"Not really. You?" I asked after I drank a good amount, already feeling a little more awake.

"No, not really." He shook his head. "Have you done any of your homework at all during the break?" He then asked.

"The fuck is homework? I've never heard of it in my life. Sounds fake." I grinned, and Sherlock groaned, then stared at me.

"Do you need help on anything?" He asked and I bit my lip. Asking for help was something I was not good at. "Baz."

"My math teacher gave us this packet to do over break..." I started.

"And?" Sherlock waited for me to continue.

"And I want to burn it," I concluded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at me. "Go get me the packet." He said, and I went over to my bag and pulled it out, handing it to him. Sherlock went over to my desk and got a pencil, and began doing it for me.

"I will love you forever. Thank you." I beamed and stood behind him as I hugged him around his neck.

"Yeah, I can't really think with you doing that." He said and I stepped back to let him work. I sat on my bed, just sipping my soda and watched him work.

When he finished up, he left the packet on my desk and sighed. "Your mom should be getting here soon. We should head down."

"Yeah, right." I nodded and went down with him to flop on the couch. "So what are you going to do when you get home, birthday boy?" I asked.

"Ignore everyone and everything." He sighed, then looked at me. "For the past few years, every year on my birthday, my dad tries to give me the 'you're becoming a man now' talk," Sherlock said, and I laughed a little as he looked so annoyed.

"There's only so many times you can have the talk before it's pointless." He shook his head.

"Can't say I feel sorry for you. My mom never gave me the talk. Ha." I said and he rolled his eyes at me.

"I thought your mom lectured you every morning when I came over?" He then asked.

"Nah, that was just a 'don't you dare get pregnant' kind of thing." I shrugged, making him laugh as I smiled.


	9. Sherlock

Amo, amas, amat. Amamus, amatis, amant.

Amo. Amo. Amo, amo, amo.

I love. I... love.

Our Latin room had changed because our teacher didn't have a permanent classroom, so I was sitting in my new seat going over verb conjugations in present tense for amo, amare. To love.

Baz walked in and sat next to me, and immediately tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and she just nodded quickly, and then she sniffled a little. "No, you're not. Baz, what is it?"

That jock, Shular, came over and looked at her. "Whoa, hey. What's up? Do I need to kill anyone for you?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Baz just said.

"So why are you looking up?" He asked.

"My eyeliner was twenty dollars, I can't cry." Baz sniffed again.

"Oh. Oh my God. Eli, Landon, get over here." Shular said and began fanning her face.

"What's up?" Eli asked.

"Her eyeliner was twenty dollars, she can't cry." He said, and they began fanning her too.

"It looks really good." Landon, a freshman jock, said.

"Thanks." Baz laughed a little. It was hard not to smile myself. They were annoying most of the time, but seeing the three band together to cheer her up was a bit nice.

"You good? Need a hug? Need me to hit someone?" Shular asked once she was sitting up normally.

"I'm good. Thanks." Baz nodded. He patted her arm before they went to their seats. The bell rang and the lesson lasted only a few minutes before we were given an assignment and broke off with partners. As usual, Baz and I pushed our desks together, sitting close together as I filled out the numerous charts, and she wrote down what I did.

"Are you going to tell me what upset you?" I asked, and Baz bit her berry colored lip a little. We had promised to talk to each other about whatever we needed to, and she knew this.

"I'm... considering dropping out." She said slowly, and I just stared at her.

"What?"

She just nodded. "I've been talking to my mom about it. She's considering it, too. I just..." Baz sighed. "I'm tired."

I knew she was tired. I knew she was stressed. It was our junior year, which was stressful enough, and she was becoming increasingly frustrated with her math class, which she couldn't drop because it's a mandatory class. Her mental health was very clearly declining, which worried the hell out of me.

Baz also told me that most of the medication her doctor put her on weren't working. Zoloft made reality seem altered, she said. Prozac made her tired as shit. Buspar was the only one that really did anything, but that was a tranquilizer, and it wasn't exactly healthy to stay on a tranq.

I used to think she was just depressed, that was pretty normal, considering. But in the months I've gotten to know her, I figured she wasn't nearly as depressed as she was anxious. Her therapist (she has a therapist?!) says she's mildly depressed, severely anxious, Baz told me.

Maybe dropping out would be good for her.

"Okay. As long as you still keep in touch with me." I said and heard her chuckle.

"Of course, I will, Sherlock. I'll even visit every day when you get out of school if you want." She offered, and I smiled a little.

"Good." I met her eyes, and I read relief in them. "Come over today."

"Okay." Baz nodded and finished copying my chart onto her own chart.

That afternoon, after dropping our bags, I made us both cups of tea, and Baz took a long drink before she surprised by setting her mug down on the counter and hugging me tightly.

I set my mug down and hugged her back, knowing she probably needed it.

"You don't think I'm pathetic, do you, Sherlock?" She asked very softly.

"Never." I held her a little tighter to me, ready to give her everything I had if it would make her feel better.

I don't remember feeling this way about anyone ever before. I've never wanted to give my all to someone, never before was I ready to drop everything I was doing for them.

But then this girl, this absolute wreck of a girl walked into my life in punk boots with a six-inch heel and metallic lipstick and took my breath away. I wanted to give my all to her. I would drop everything for her. And... I wasn't entirely sure why.

The main thought in my head was that I loved her. I then doubted myself because one, I was seventeen. I had no idea what love was. Two, my whole life I was taught that love is nothing more than a chemical reaction in our brains that make us want to mate. To our brains, there is no difference between love and lust. It's all the same. It just wants us to produce offspring.

I wanted Baz to be more than something that set off chemicals in my brain. She was so much more than that to me.

I needed her to be more than something so simple, and quite honestly, I was scared of that.


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of junior year was a little rocky for Baz. I breezed through it easily, I had no worries for myself. But Baz?

She worried me to no end. And what was even more worrying is that she hated that I worried over her.

I spent months providing hugs in safe places like our rooms, wiping away thousands of tears, and slipping into the girl's bathroom to comfort her if she started panicking in school.

I could see her constantly battling with not caring about school and just dropping out, and being too anxiety-ridden to leave. It was starting to kill me, seeing how it was killing her.

Then a miracle happened that settled it for her.

It was early June, the second to be exact, and exams were very close. We were at lunch, and Baz was talking about how she was going to live like Dorian Gray, making me snicker.

Her cell phone buzzed on the table, and she looked down at it. "Sorry, it's my mom." She said and picked it up to answer.

"Hello?" She hummed, and I kept eating, then heard Baz gasp softly.

"You're serious?" She asked quietly. "Like, really serious?"

I looked up and saw her eyes were wide in shock, and I began to fear for the worst.

"Yeah, I'll see you later. Bye." She said and hung up, and remained still.

"Baz?" I asked softly, and only her eyes moved, looking like she was trying to process something.

"Baz, what happened? Are you okay?" I asked, and her mouth fell open to speak, but she didn't say anything for a good long moment.

"He's dead." She said quietly. "My dad. He died."

My jaw dropped in surprise as well. I didn't know what to say. How did Baz feel about it? I mean, she absolutely hated him. He was an asshole who abused her mother and kept terrorizing them for money. But he was also her father. Maybe deep down she maybe cared for him a little?

"Fucking finally." She breathed out, closing her eyes, and some tears leaked out.

Yep, no care at all for the jackass.

Baz put her elbows on the table, hands coming up to cover her face, and she wiped some tears away as I just stared, still unsure of what to do.

"Fucking finally." She repeated. "He just smoked himself to death. Oh, and the best part? He was too poor, he doesn't even get a funeral. Not like anyone wants to mourn him anyway." Baz sniffed, a small smile working its way onto her lips, a soft rosy pink today.

"You're a minor. Won't you get compensation?" I suddenly thought, and she grinned.

"I didn't even think about that part. Yeah, I will." She nodded.

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"Probably save most of it. But I'm going to get myself tattooed." Baz smiled and I chuckled a little.

"Yeah? What are you going to get?" I asked and she hummed.

"A quote from The Great Gatsby," Baz said almost dreamily. "Probably 'a beautiful little fool.'"

"I thought you hated Daisy?" I asked.

"Oh, I do. She's a well-written character, though, and that quote has multiple meanings behind it. It's one of my favorites." Baz smiled, wiggling a little in her seat.

"I thought you would choose something like 'among the champagne and the stars.'" I hummed.

"It's 'among the whispering and the champagne and the stars,' Sherlock." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "And no, that's a little too middle-aged mother for me. Meanwhile, I am a beautiful little fool. Speaking of, that's exactly why I'm going to live like Dorian Gray." She went back to the previous topic, and I laughed a little.

"But won't all the sinning make you ugly?" I asked.

"I literally bought you The Picture of Dorian Gray for Christmas, have you not read it?" She laughed, then shook her head. "No, my soul will turn ugly, and I'm fine with that. But my face, that will stay pretty forever. I won't age a fucking day." Baz grinned.

"Can't wait to see you when we're thirty then, and you look just like you do now." I teased.

"Jealousy will turn you ugly, Sherlock." Baz teased me right back.

"I can't be jealous. I'm nowhere near as vain as you." I laughed.

"Thank God for that." Baz hummed, only making me laugh harder.

The bell rang and we went to our next class, hers was Creative Writing, mine was Physics. I already knew everything we were being taught, so I zoned out for most of the class, just focused on Baz.

I wasn't sure if I like or if I hated how she knew she was pretty. Yes, I was happy that she was happy in her skin, but it also felt like if I were to tell her that she's beautiful, it wouldn't mean anything.

But the thing is that she thinks she's pretty only when she makes herself pretty. She thinks she's average looking when she doesn't have makeup on. All of winter break, she didn't wear anything, and she told me so, and she was far prettier than I'd ever seen her.

I didn't care if she wore makeup or not. That was her choice. I wanted her to know how beautiful she was to me no matter what she wore.

But she's probably told she's beautiful constantly, so me telling her wouldn't mean a damn thing.

That killed me a little.


	11. Chapter 11

Baz and I were going to spend the summer together, every second that we could.

After an entire school year of coming over to each other's houses, our parents sort of realized we weren't up to anything illegal or scandalous, and we were allowed up in our bedrooms.

Like we weren't already going up there. Okay.

Baz didn't wear shorts. She wore T-shirts and tank tops, though. I once asked if she was hot in jeans, she said no. She also didn't like showing her legs because they were so fucking pale, and she didn't want to blind people.

Baz was also working on getting her license. She wasn't allowed to drive without someone who already had a license legally, but she honestly didn't care, and was a pretty good driver, if I said so myself.

In June, she wanted to take me to the beach, so she drove over to my house at the crack of dawn, and we went off on this beach trip. I could see her bathing suit straps under her tank top, and I fell in love with the grin on her face. Her hair was up in a bun on the top of her head, she hardly wore any makeup, and she looked so mischievous and happy.

She told me that her mom was the best goddamn driver ever, so her driving skills must be genetic, and we would definitely not be pulled over and asked for license and registration.

I'll admit, I was excited when we got to the beach. It was a perfect day for it, too. It was sunny, not too hot, and there was a light breeze.

Baz found a parking spot and told me to remember where we were parked, she would easily forget. I looked around quickly and memorized where we were as she grabbed the huge bag with towels and sunscreen and whatever else.

"Open up the back. I got some chairs back there." She said and also grabbed a cooler from the backseat.

I grabbed the two folding chairs and we closed and locked the car after making sure we had everything, then walked onto the beach, which was already starting to fill up with people.

"What do you have in there?" I asked, looking at the cooler.

"Uh, some water bottles, some soda, a few bottles of hard lemonade, if you're interested." She hummed as we picked a spot far enough from where the waves would get near us.

We set up the chairs and Baz tucked the bag between them. She was wearing shorts today, and I don't know how I never noticed the shape of her legs before. It was almost like they were sculpted from marble. Perfect and smooth and pale.

She took off her tank top, revealing a white and navy blue striped bikini top with a gold ring between her breasts. She took a bottle of SPF 100 out of the bag and sat down, and started to lather up.

"You're getting some of this too. I am not going to be blamed if you come back looking like a fucking tomato." Baz said, making me laugh. I was a bit self-conscious, yes, but I took my shirt off anyway, leaving me in my swim trunks and flip flops, and took the bottle of sunscreen as she rubbed it into her arms, not missing an inch.

"Want me to get your back?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Thanks." She turned, and I told myself to calm down as I spread the sunscreen over her shoulders, getting the back of her neck before I went down her back.

"Thanks. I can get yours, too?" She offered and I nodded and turned my back to her, and bit the inside of my lip at her soft hands rubbing my shoulders and going down my back.

"Pretty sure boners in public are illegal, Sherlock." Baz hummed once she was done, and I gave her a look.

"Shut up," I mumbled, and took a little on my fingers to get my face, looking away as Baz stood to take her shorts off to get her thighs and legs.

She sat a bit, slipping her sunglasses back on her face from where they rested on her hair. We sat for a while and talked as we sipped soda and water just to keep hydrated. Baz had to drag me to the water, but she was the one who took forever to get in the water because "it's cold, Sherlock, you don't understand."

I told her I understood perfectly, now get in before I force you. Baz narrowed her eyes and joined me where the water was at our waists.

"See? Not so bad." I gave her a little smile.

"If I had balls, they'd be the size of raisins." Baz huffed, making me laugh.

"It is not that cold." I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, it is."

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because I do have balls," I smirked, and Baz tried to look mad, but gave in and laughed.

We spent some time in the water before going back to our chairs, and Baz handed me a towel, keeping one to lay on the chair and sit on. She preferred to air dry. Why? I have no idea. It was weird to me.

Once we were dry, we decided to spend the rest of the day on the boardwalk. So we took the chairs back to the car, and the cooler and bag, and we both got our wallets, and I made sure she had the car keys with her.

We got fish and chips for lunch, and Baz was torn between ice cream and slushies. I made the choice for her and took her hand, taking us over to get slushies, which I paid for since she bought lunch.

We both got cherry, and Baz made a joke as we walked down the boardwalk that we should've gotten different colors so she could make the "want to make purple?" joke. I rolled my eyes at her.

But later in the afternoon, we were just drinking hard lemonade by the car, and I had had enough.

"You okay, Sherlock?" Baz asked, tilting her head at me.

"Not really." I hummed and took another sip.

"What's up?" She sounded worried.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." I nodded, then leaned down a few inches and kissed her. I felt her freeze, but I didn't pull back. After a moment, she began kissing me back, making me feel all sorts of things.

A minute later, I pulled back and took a deep breath. "You've been driving me crazy all day."

Baz just smiled, her face still incredibly close to mine. "Yeah, can't say I'm sorry for that."

She then surprised me by tugging my shirt collar down, making me lean down again, and this time, she kissed me.


	12. Chapter 12

Our relationship had changed, obviously, but we didn't clue our parents in. Who knows what they would do if they found that instead of reading or watching movies and TV, or just plain talking, we spent all day joined together by our lips.

I had absolutely no complaints. I could kiss and hold Baz all day if I wanted to, and I did often want to. And the best part? She let me.

I took a chance one day and broke away from her lips and kissed down to her neck, and she let out the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. It was something between a gasp, a sigh, and a moan. I don't know, I just knew I loved it and needed to hear more of it.

The things that sound did to me... fuck.

I was incredibly embarrassed when we were in her room one day, Baz on top of me, straddling my hips, and I held her there as I nipped at her neck with my teeth. She bit her lip to hold in her whimpers, but it didn't take long to work that sound out of her. And once I heard it, it sent shivers to my spine and blood to my crotch.

I froze as I felt myself harden under her, and hoped... fuck, I prayed that I wasn't making her uncomfortable.

But Baz, this wreck of a girl, she just tucked her hair behind her ear, tilted my face up by my jaw, and kissed me hard, rocking herself back and forth in my lap.

She drove me insane.

One of her other friends had visited their friend in uni and brought back some drugs. She gave Baz a bag of rolled joints, and Baz asked me if I wanted to try with her. "Lose our weed virginities together," was how she phrased it.

I said sure, and she opened her window and turned on the fan in her room. She got a lighter from her nightstand and lit it, took an inhale, then passed it to me. She coughed, her eyes watering a little, and I remembered it was said that everyone coughs the first few times. I coughed as I exhaled as well, handing it back to her.

Our first time, our first few times really were sort of pathetic, but we soon got the hang of it.

Baz got herself a job down at a bookstore, so she wasn't free every day anymore, but she spends the days she didn't work with me. We didn't always get high every time we were together. We went on dates and stuff, we messed around. We still read books, watched movies and TV, spent hours just talking and being together.

But today. Today was a high day.

We were in her room, window open, fan on, both of us in next to no clothing as we sat up on her bed. I had just taken an inhale and leaned forward, and Baz opened her mouth. Our lips brushed together, and I exhaled the smoke into her mouth, and she inhaled deeply, and I watched her eyes close in pleasure.

I soon closed my own eyes and kissed her after she exhaled. Thanks to the effects of the THC, our kisses were slow and lazy, but they always felt the fieriest.

"Do you want to..." I started, pulling back slightly.

Baz giggled a little. "I'd rather fuck you when we're sober, thanks."

"Yeah, good point." I hummed and took another inhale to breathe into her lungs as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

We haven't had sex yet, some fooling around and touching here and there, but that was about it. Since we did talk a lot, I told her that I wanted her in that way. She smiled, looking bashful, and said she felt complimented. She stroked my cheek so lovingly and said she wanted me too, but she wanted to wait for the perfect time.

I sort of understood. I mean, we would both be losing our virginities, it was kind of a big thing. Baz was a perfectionist, so I could understand her wanting everything to be flawless.

But for now, on her bed, I was perfectly fine with shot-gunning her, having her in my lap in thin silk panties and a tank top, no bra.

"You're beautiful." I sighed, exhaling, and she took the joint from me.

"You're high." Baz just chuckled and took an inhale.

"Just because I'm high doesn't mean I don't find you beautiful when I'm sober," I said, stroking her waist over the black tank top she wore.

Baz exhaled slowly, just staring down at me. She finished that exhale quickly, then took another inhale, her brows pinching together.

"Alright. I'll bite. What makes me beautiful to you?" She asked, and I dropped my hands to rest on her thighs.

"Your eyes. You have the prettiest hazel eyes I've ever seen. I think your freckles, not just the faint ones on your cheeks, but the darker ones on your shoulders and arms, those are gorgeous. I... I practically worship your lips, Baz." I sighed and watched her carefully.

"But I also think the way you speak your mind, no matter what's on it, is beautiful. I think you have a beautiful mind. I love hearing your thoughts. You paint such pretty pictures with words, Baz." I smiled, then stroked the inside of her right arm, where the tattoo she got early in July rested.

"You're my beautiful little fool." I grinned, my eyes meeting hers again. " _Amo tu_."

" _Amo tu_ ," Baz repeated and leaned down to kiss me with all her heart.


	13. Baz

I called Sherlock over to mine early Saturday morning, and when he came over, I took both his hands in mine with a big smile on my face.

"I take it something good has happened?" Je hummed, looking down at me.

"My mom has this friend who does these sort of movie nights at a church, and they go on to about midnight, and she also goes for a late, late dinner with them, too," I explained.

"So...?" Sherlock hummed.

"So she won't be back until about two a.m," I said, and he gave me a small smile.

"I'm just trying to not jump to conclusions, love," Sherlock said.

I chuckled and pecked his lips, then lead him up to my room, not letting go of his hands.

"What? You want to now?" Sherlock asked as I kicked my door closed.

"Don't act like you don't know I'm impatient," I said and turned to kiss him again. I finally had everything perfect. My sheets were cleaned last night, I had shaved literally every inch of my body (and found out I rather quite liked being hairless down there), I smelled amazing, and the bra and panties I chose today I thought Sherlock would like very much.

Sherlock kissed me for a bit, then pulled away to undress me, and I giggled at his excitement as he brought my shirt over my head and pushed down the track shorts I wore.

"Look at you." Sherlock grinned at the black set, lace under the cups of my bra, and black see-through lace on my panties. He took my hand and raised it to turn me around in a circle, and I giggled a little.

"You're beautiful, Baz." He sighed and I began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

"You're such a sap." I shook my head with a smile as his hands were too busy feeling the skin on my waist and hips. I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and worked on his belt and pants, and Sherlock kicked his shoes and socks off, getting rid of his pants, and came with me to my bed.

He lied me down and moved over me, catching my lips in a heated kiss, and started to kiss down my jaw and neck, and to my chest. He kissed at the skin of my breasts as his hands slid behind me, and he undid the clasp. I let him take it off me, and his hands came to my chest with his lips, making me shiver.

He quickly had my nipples hard from being in his mouth, and he continued his trail down to my panties. I expected him to stop and take them off before he continued, but he just trailed his mouth over the extra thin fabric, making me gasp and tremble a little.

His hands slid down my thighs and to my knees, making me raise my legs, putting my feet on the bed. Sherlock raised himself up and slid my panties off me, and he looked up at me, his hands just feeling the skin on my inner thighs.

"May I?" He asked, and I was a little touched that he took a moment to ask for consent.

"Yeah." I nodded, biting my lip. I only bit down harder as I watched him lower his head between my nails, pressing soft kisses over my labia before he parted my lips and licked between them.

My reaction was immediate. I moaned, and my hips raised up slightly from the jolt of pleasure he brought me. Sherlock brought his arms around my thighs, holding me open that way as my legs were parted even more, and he kept licking, flicking his tongue against my clit sometimes.

I wasn't a complete novice to sex. I masturbated on a regular basis, something Sherlock was surprised to hear when I told him. I had come before, I'd had orgasms before. Only this time, it would be with another person.

Sherlock slid a finger into me, pad up as I told him, and he pumped it a few times before he curled it inside of me, finding my G spot and he paid it a lot of attention.

I was moaning, biting my lip to try to hold them in, but it was just so... so good. I could not only feel how wet I was, but I could also fucking hear it, too.

"Sherlock..." I moaned, pushing him back a little. "Come on, please? I need you." I pouted, and he looked a bit stunned for a second.

"Right... right!" Sherlock blinked and pushed his boxers down. His hardness sprung up, and I saw he was already leaking.

"Should we, uh... is missionary alright?" He asked, placing himself between my legs and above me, bringing us close.

"To start with, yeah." I nodded. Sherlock nodded and positioned himself, and I felt him brush against me.

"You'll tell me if it hurts, right?" He looked back at me.

"It's not supposed to hurt, Sherlock. That shit's a myth." I rolled my eyes.

"But you'll tell me if you want to stop?" He asked again.

"Yes! Now, please?" I begged, and he pecked my lips before he slowly started to push into me.

My jaw fell open as my eyes shut. I had planned on just fisting the sheets, but I couldn't control myself as my hands came up to his shoulders to feel his skin.

"You're okay?" Sherlock breathed once he was fully in me, and I nodded, licking my lips a little. He started to pull out again, and I breathed slowly, and when he pushed back in, I whimpered out a moan, my hands tightening into fists on his shoulders.

"You're sure it doesn't hurt, Baz?" Sherlock sounded worried.

"No, it's good. God, it's so good, Sherlock. Please, keep going." I begged, opening my eyes to see him.

Sherlock dipped down to kiss me, and he kept thrusting, and I just moaned into our kiss, my fingers slipping into his hair to pull at.

I honestly couldn't even describe it if I was asked to. It was like tingles were all over me, I had shivers fucking everywhere. There was this weird fluttery feeling in my core that traveled all the way up to my chest. I had no control over my moans, as biting my lip to shut me up was not working at all. I absolutely hated how I sounded. Sort of like quick, high gasps and whines.

Sherlock, however, he looked... delectable. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, and I heard his soft groans, nowhere as near as loud as my moans.

"Oh fuck, Baz... love." Sherlock sighed and went to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on my neck, and one of his hands fell down to collect some of my wetness and rub my clit with it.

That had me shaking against him, and I didn't realize that I had gotten so close so soon. Then again, I wasn't the best at keeping time, and it's not like either of us were keeping time now.

Sherlock was thrusting into me a little harder now, probably because he was getting close, too. I felt my orgasm coming, and I stuttered out his name as I tried to warn him, but it hit me before I could fully get it out.

I paused and relaxed into a puddle of bliss, and Sherlock had just deepened his strokes and kissed me as he came inside me. I found his pants so hot as he pulled out and lied beside me, and I moved closer to him.

I closed my eyes and smiled, which soon turned into giggles, and Sherlock had joined me, the two of us just laying there snickering in our little bubble of happiness.


	14. Chapter 14

The happiness wasn't going to last, I found out the hard way.

School had started up again, and Sherlock went back for senior year while I didn't. I kept working. I'd go over in the afternoons when he got home from school if I was off that day or if I didn't have a shift that afternoon. We also spent weekends together.

I spent my eighteenth birthday with Sherlock in October, and he surprised me by getting us a hotel room for the weekend. That was our own little paradise.

Sherlock and I still smoked together, maybe once a week or so. But Sherlock liked the high a little too much, and soon he was onto heavier things.

We didn't keep secrets, so he told me when he got himself a little bag of cocaine and snorted it right up. He offered some to me, but I refused, the memory of my dad red in the face with white powder on the tip of his nose still fresh in my mind.

I told Sherlock to watch the doses, and I would never forgive him if he overdosed. He kissed me and promised he would.

Sherlock probably sensed that I wasn't into heavier drugs, so he kept that away from me. He still told me about it, whatever he was taking, just to keep everything honest between us, but he didn't do anything but pot if I was around.

I guess I appreciated it.

I didn't think drugs would become such a big part of his life, though. His parents knew something was up with him, and I actually had no idea what to do.

I believe in people making their own choices in whatever they do. People can wear what they want to wear, like what they like, love who they love, do what they want as long as they weren't hurting themselves or others. I was a big believer in free will.

So I was very conflicted because I didn't want Sherlock to ruin his life or end up hurting himself or someone else, but I also didn't want to tell him what to do. I'd be a hypocrite if I did. I hated people telling me what to do, and he knew that, so why would I do that to him?

I supposed I could ask gently, ask if he could reconsider, maybe just tone it down a bit? But again, I had no idea how. Confrontation scared me. Asking people for things terrified me.

I had too much anxiety to deal with this.

There were just constant thoughts of what if he hates me? What if he leaves me? What if he gets angry with me? What if he's like my dad, and gets violent? What if he hurts me?

I seriously considered telling his parents so he could get help. I actually thought about telling Mycroft.

I tried not to think of this when I was around Sherlock, but he knew me all too well. He could read me like a fucking book.

"You're upset." He noted while we were in his room one afternoon. I opened my mouth to say I was fine, but we didn't lie to each other, so I just shut my mouth again.

"What's happened?" He sat in front of me, holding my hands in his, and I just bit my tongue. "Is it me? Have I done something to upset you?" He asked softly, and I just took a breath.

"I love you." I started. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yes. And I love you." Sherlock said.

"I'm... worried about you," I admitted, starting to tear up a little. "About your drug use. I just... I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I won't-"

"You will." I cut him off, still refusing to look at him, trying to keep my voice steady as the tears came faster and slipped down my cheeks. "I've seen it up close and personal my whole life, Sherlock. You think you won't, you think you'll be fine, and then you won't be."

Sherlock raised my face and wiped my tears with his thumb.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I didn't think... I wasn't thinking about how it might affect you. God, that's selfish. I'm sorry, Baz." Sherlock sighed and I was working on controlling my breathing.

Sherlock wasn't like my dad. He wasn't my dad. He didn't get angry. He was far more considerate. He wasn't my dad.

"I don't expect you to stop immediately..." I said.

"I'll stop right now. Of course, I will." Sherlock held my cheek in his hand. "I'd do anything for you. I'll stop." He swore.

"You'd be wise to." The cocky voice of Mycroft sounded as the door opened. We both looked over, and Sherlock out a scowl on.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Got tipped off that my younger brother has been spotted participating in certain... suspicious activities. I had to come check and turns out, it's true." He said, tucking a cell phone into one of his pockets.

"It's none of your business. Leave. Please." Sherlock huffed.

"Oh, certainly. You're coming with me, though." Mycroft said, and we both stared at him.

"Beg your pardon?" Sherlock then stood, and I remained seated on his bed, no idea what to do, no idea what was happening.

"Rehabilitation, brother mine," Mycroft said with a smile I wanted to smack off his face.

"I do not need rehab, Mycroft. I'm not an addict." Sherlock insisted.

"A thing all addicts say." He sighed, then those cold eyes landed on me. "Oh, Miss Pitch, I almost forgot. Your concern for my brother's wellbeing is appreciated, but no longer necessary."

"Sorry?" I then stood.

"Say goodbye, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"No. What? No!" Sherlock protested as two men in suits came into his room, coming towards me. My eyes widened and I backed up, scared as shit, but they grabbed my arms and started to haul me out nonetheless, but Mycroft had them pause so he could speak to me.

"Seeing as you're the one who's ruined his life, you won't be seeing him again. Take care." Mycroft just smiled.

I grit my teeth and kicked him as hard as I could, making him stumble and gasp in pain. The two men whisked me away, and I didn't even get a chance to look back at Sherlock before they had taken me outside and put me in a car to take me away.


	15. Sherlock

The years have passed, and oh, the lies I've told. I've lied to people that have had my back for years now. Mrs. Hudson, John, Molly, Lestrade...

They were in 221B for whatever reason now. I had just watered the sweet basil plant I kept beside my chair, and sat down, staring at the white flowers with little streaks of purple on the petals.

Even they weren't as beautiful as her...

I was lost in thought, John probably believed I had slipped off to my mind palace. I did that sometimes, go off to my kind palace just to think about her. I dedicated the palace's ballroom to her. The garden, too. Because she was important, she mattered. She was no longer just something that set off chemicals in my brain. She had become so much more, just like I wanted her to be.

I felt a headache forming, and then came back to the present. We all heard a knock downstairs, and Mrs. Hudson got up to get it.

I didn't pay any attention to whatever John, Lestrade, and Molly were talking about. But half listened when Mrs. Hudson came back, calling for me.

"Hm?" I asked.

"There's a girl. Says she's got a spinach alfredo pizza for you?" She said, and my lips parted in surprise.

"Say that again." I sat up a bit straighter.

"Spinach alfredo pizza. I didn't realize you put spinach on pizza..." She hummed, and I stood up and went down as fast as my feet could carry me. I paused at the last step and just stared.

Ripped jeans, a couple of sizes too big for her, held up with a belt, black boots just like she wore in high school, but no heel on these ones, a cropped plain white T-shirt, and pink, not brown hair, done up in that classic bun on the top of her head.

I forced myself to look at her face and see her smile. She did her makeup even better than she did back then. She wore just as much, too. When I saw that smile I've dreamt of and missed for years and years on those perfectly shaped lips, painted pink today, it brought a smile to my face and I rushed over to hug her.

"Sherlock Holmes, if you make me drop this pizza, I swear to fuck-"

"Shut up." I set the box aside and hugged her, and felt her arms come around me just as tightly.

I wasn't sure how long we stood there, but I was taking the time to rememorize her frame, just how small she was compared to me, how her skin felt, how smooth and soft she was, how she smelled... Baz smelled as sweet as ever.

I pulled back a little and tilted her face up to look at her. Baz smiled a bit wider and brought her hand up to my cheek, brushing some tears away I didn't know I had let out.

"Never thought you'd cry for me." She smiled as she spoke softly.

"I missed you so much. That doesn't even cover how much I missed you." I sighed just as softly, just happy to be in her presence, elated to have her in my arms.

"Sorry I took so long. Your bitch ass brother's been keeping an eye on me for the past ten years." She rolled those gorgeous hazel eyes of hers.

"What changed?" My brows furrowed.

"You started making a name for yourself." Baz grinned. "Your face is all over the front pages, your address in some articles, too." I smiled proudly at her.

Baz held my cheek and inspected me, her thumb stroking over my cheekbone. "Didn't you grow up handsome."

I let out a small chuckle and tightened my hold around her. "You're still a beautiful little fool. You haven't aged a day. Done a lot of sinning, have you?" I teased.

"You know it." Baz beamed up at me, and my chest ached. I wasn't sure if I wanted to crush her to my chest in a hug and never let go or kiss her until we were both dizzy.

I didn't get to make that decision, as Baz stretched up on her toes and softly kissed me. I tried my very best to control myself and knew that she was, too. I kissed her back, letting my tongue part her lips, and fuck, how I've missed this. How I've missed her.

Someone, I'm guessing John, cleared his throat, and I groaned in annoyance as I pulled back a little and heard Baz's soft chuckle.

I grabbed the box of pizza, laced our fingers together and took her upstairs, telling John to move as I took her to my bedroom, not caring that there was company over right now. She was important, she would always be more important.

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Is that basil?" She paused at the doorway, looking at the plant beside my chair. "How sweet."

"Come on." I tugged her along and heard her snicker.

"And we thought I was the impatient one." I heard Baz say, and I threw her a look and just saw her smirk. I got her in and told her to wait there as I got us some bottles of water.

"Who is she?" John asked when I popped back out.

"None of your business." I hummed as I grabbed a few.

"Well, you were just snogging her by the front door..."

"Not now, John." I sighed and went back to my room, this time locking the door when I closed it. Baz was sitting on the bed, her boots off, already eating a slice. "What have I told you about starting without me?" I shook my head and went over to join her.


	16. Chapter 16

After a minute, I reached over and flicked some loose strands of hair by her ear, which she had bleached and dyed a sort of pink and gold color.

"I thought you hated pink." I hummed.

"I do. But, you've gotta admit it looks good on me." Baz shrugged.

"I'm betting you don't work in a bookstore, still?" I asked, earning a little laugh.

"Nah. I actually became a makeup artist. Who would've thought, right?" She rolled her eyes with a smile. I was so enchanted.

Baz only ate two slices, and I took her hands and stood her up. "Come on. Let me get a look at you." I said and began studying her.

She was thinner than I remembered. But she didn't look as tired, so that's something.

Baz seemed to read my mind. "We found an antidepressant that works pretty well for me. Nothing for my anxiety yet, though."

"Still on birth control?" I asked and saw her grin.

"Wouldn't you like to know." She pushed my shoulder lightly.

"I would." I nodded and caught her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist while keeping eye contact.

"I am." She nodded.

"Good," I smirked just for a second. I then tugged her closer to me, deciding to be brave. "Because if you think I'm using a condom after ten years, you are mistaken," I spoke lowly and saw her blush, but a smile took over her lips.

"You still want me? After all this time? I am the person who ruined your life." Baz said.

"I'm doing pretty well if I say so myself." I shrugged. "And how could I not want you. You're... you're Baz. You're my Baz." I ran my thumbs over her knuckles.

"Do you still want me?" I asked, praying she didn't have someone else out of my own selfishness.

"Yes." Baz nodded, lifting my spirits even more than they've already been lifted today. "You're my Sherlock."

"That I am." I sighed and held her cheek to kiss her. She trailed her fingers through my hair, which I found I also missed. I let my fingers dig into her back, not wanting to ever let her go.

"Where are you living now?" I asked.

"Mycroft relocated mom and me to the middle of bum fuck nowhere in Doncaster." She sighed. "Why?"

"Move in," I begged. "Please, Baz. Move in with me. Now that I've got you back, I don't want to be away from you any longer. Ten years is enough."

Baz gave a small smile. "That's some obsessive type shit, Sherlock."

"I really don't care." I shook my head. "Will you move in?"

"Yeah." Baz agreed with a nod, making me smile. "I don't want to be away from you, either." She admitted softly.

I kissed her lips, then saw her smile even wider. "As a bonus, think of how much it'll piss Mycroft off."

"That sounds amazing." I grinned.

We traded numbers, and I peeked and saw her put a heart symbol by my name. I don't know why it made me smile, but it did.

She left, promising to come back with all of her shit, so I better clear some bookshelves.

"Who is she?" John asked again.

"She's..." I started, trying to think up an appropriate title as I cleared some bookshelves of useless shit. "My S.O." I settled on.

"S.O.? Your significant other?" John asked as if he didn't believe it. "I thought you were married to your work."

"Staying loyal." I gave a small shrug.

"What's her name?" John asked after a moment of silence of him trying to process this. I suppose it was a lot to process.

"Basil. She goes by Baz." I answered. "She's outspoken, somewhat violent, more verbally than physically, though. She has the mouth of a sailor, she loves to make fun of people. She's a bit of a bully, really."

I then sighed. "She's pretty, and she knows it, and will never let you forget it. She's impatient. Far more impatient than I am. She gets bored faster than I do, too. She'll say she's going to kill herself or joke about her own death. Don't take it seriously, it's a coping mechanism of hers. She's an anxious little mess. She's morally gray, which will honestly surprise you." I looked back at John and saw him staring at me in amazement. The same face he makes if he's impressed with my deductions.

"What?" I asked.

"You... it's just that you acted like you haven't seen her in a long time." He said.

"I haven't," I admitted.

"How long?"

"Ten years. Maybe a little more." I answered and saw his eyes widen. "Mycroft forced us apart. Kept her hidden from me, he never told me where she was. I tried looking, but Mycroft hid her tracks well. She only found me because newspapers added our address in their articles. Guess that's one thing they did right." I hummed

"Why did he separate you two?" John asked.

"He accused her of ruining my life." I sighed. "She did no such thing, as I'm doing perfectly fine." I nodded and went to clear some space in my closet and drawers for her. Good thing there was an unused vanity in my room. Now it could be put to use.

"What are you doing now?" John asked, following me.

"Oh, I've asked her to move in." I then looked over. "You're... okay with that, right?" I asked, remembering that he lived here, too.

"Huh? Oh yeah, that's fine. Just... keep it down. You know." He shrugged, and I smirked a little.

"Of course, John," I said, and when he left my room, my smile only grew.


	17. Chapter 17

Baz came back the next day with bags, which both John and I helped her carry in. I tasked myself with organizing all of her books while she took care of everything else.

It didn't take her long to unpack, and she soon joined the two of us in the living room. She sat in my chair, over to one side, looking at the basil plant and tracing the shiny leaves and flowers with her finger.

"Mycroft absolutely hates it. Says so every time he visits." I told her and saw her smile.

"Good. I hate that chubby ass motherfucker, too." She hummed.

I finished with her books and sat on the arm of the chair. I looked down at her arms, spotting an astronaut mowing the moon on the inside of her left arm. Made me wonder what other tattoos she's got over the years.

"Where's your tea?" Baz then hummed, and John told her which cabinet. She smiled over at him and got up, going in the kitchen, asking if we wanted tea. I smiled a little myself and just joined her in the kitchen as she put the kettle on the stove to heat up some water.

She got mugs and tea down and saw me watching her. "What?" She smiled.

"Just you." I continued to smile.

"What about me?"

"You're beautiful."

Baz rolled her eyes at me, then came over where I leaned on the counter, and kissed me softly. I was about to kiss her harder when she pulled back.

"And you're a sap." She gave me a smile before turning away.

" _Amo tu_." I smiled, telling her softly, seeing her smile a little wider.

" _Amo tu_ , you fucking sap."

Baz made the three of us some tea and handed me mine and John's tea. I sat in my chair, and she went over to John's chair.

Baz was quiet for about three minutes before her eyes widened and she swore. I looked over as she sighed.

"I forgot to tell my boss that I moved." She said, and I found it hard to not laugh. "Shit. Where's my phone? Where is my resume?" She set her tea down and got up to go look.

"What does she do?" John asked.

"She's a makeup artist," I said.

"Oh. I would've never guessed that." He said and I snickered.

I heard her apologizing to her boss in my... well, our room now. She came back with a small binder, which looked like a resume tucked into the front of it.

"What's that?" I asked as she got to typing on her phone, probably looking for jobs in the area.

"My work." She hummed and held it out to me, so I decided to take a look. Why not?

I saw there were three sections. Beauty, Halloween, and SFX. The beauty one was the thickest, Halloween being the next, and SFX wasn't that thick at all.

"You do SFX?" I asked.

"Well, I'm no expert, but I know my way around liquid latex, prosthetics, body paint, and blood." Baz gave a little shrug. I flipped to that section and found a lot of slit throats and mouths, some gory zombies and corpses, someone with a missing eye, and a few with some features missing altogether.

I flipped back to Halloween and was impressed with that work, probably more impressed than I would be with just plain beauty.

Most were horror characters, but there were some more toned down zombies, some skulls, half skulls, some other monsters here and there. There were a lot of clowns or just clown-like things. The one I was most impressed with was a girl who looked like a blue deer. Somehow Baz had managed to make her face look slimmer and give her deer features. I was confused for a few seconds and tried to study it and figure out how.

"The deer?" Baz asked, and I peeked up and saw her smirking. "That one always gets people. I think it might be my best yet."

John came over and peered over my shoulder. "Oh... wow. That is amazing."

"Thank you." She smiled and sipped her tea.

"You do a lot of Halloween makeup?" He asked.

"I mostly do regular old beauty, which is fun and all. But I really prefer costume makeup. There's more room for creativity." I watched her smile grow as she spoke.

"Clearly." John agreed.

Baz smirked softly and went back to her phone, typing quickly, pausing at some points, probably to read.

"Why are you looking for a job?" I then looked up.

"I have bills of my own, Sherlock." She chuckled. "Shit I have to pay for. And don't get to thinking that I'm not going to be helping with rent either. I'm not that awful." She said.

"What? You don't have to pay rent." John said, and I agreed, but Baz just rolled her eyes.

"I'd love to freeload, I really would, but it's simply not fair to you two." She shrugged slightly.

As dinner rolled around, John told me he was going out tonight so we would have the place to ourselves.

"Tonight only. Don't expect this as a regular thing." He gave me a look.

"Thanks, John." I gave him an appreciative smile. He rolled his eyes, shrugged his jacket on, and left.


	18. Chapter 18

"Are we alone?" Baz asked a minute after John was gone.

"Yep." I popped my lips and took her to our room, smiling as I heard her soft giggles behind me. I shut the door and pulled her into a kiss.

I didn't bother with being gentle, I wanted to make up for ten years. I wanted to show her that I thought about her every day I didn't see her. I needed her to know that all the feelings I held for her are still there. I'd still do anything for her, I'd drop everything for her, I'd still give her everything I had. I'd give her my heart, my soul, whatever she wanted. It was all hers.

She had worked all the buttons on my shirt open and slid it off my shoulders, running her hands down my chest.

"Fuck," Baz breathed against my lips, pulling back to look at me. "When the hell did you start working out?"

I laughed a little and kissed her before I got her shirt off, and we worked on each other's pants. I got distracted by the curve of her waist to her hip. Baz had curves like she wore a corset twenty-four seven, and I had no idea how she had that naturally. It wasn't plastic surgery, she had them when she was seventeen, too.

Maybe she was just blessed with good genetics.

Baz undid her bra as I was distracted, and kicked her pants off. I saw more tattoos on her legs and had the urge to study every line inked into her skin. I lied her back on the bed and took a few minutes to study her body and the art on it.

She had the Gatsby quote inside her right arm. On her upper right arm was a man in a suit with antlers and completely white eyes. She had a few lines in cursive above her left breast. The tattoo of the astronaut mowing the moon was inside her left elbow. She had two dragons, a baby and a fully grown one, on her right thigh, and a portrait on her left thigh. I recognized it to be Dorian Gray, and I was a little impressed with how realistic it was.

After I was done studying, I hooked my fingers around the waistband of the olive green lace panties she wore and dragged them down her legs. I trailed my hands back up those smooth, pale, perfectly sculpted legs, placing kisses on her hips, and she watched me with soft eyes and a little smile.

"Hope you don't mind that I'm taking my time." I hummed.

"Of course not." She gave me a tiny smile. I kissed down her mound to her core and licked my way back up it. I heard Baz take a shuddering breath, and I smiled a little at how I affected her. She affected me just as easily, just as bad.

I held her open with two fingers as I licked across her, having only a faint memory of what she tasted like, but with every lick, it became clearer to me. I remember I was a little confused the first time I gave her oral. I was told that women smell like fish down in their privates. I remembered when I first lowered my head, Baz didn't smell like anything. Her skin smelled like the soap and matching lotion she used, but she just didn't smell like anything. Her taste wasn't all that bad, either. I was concerned all those years ago that whatever came out of anyone, male or female, it probably wouldn't taste good. But once I tasted Baz and her come, it didn't taste like much either. Maybe a twinge of acidity or something, but not much.

It made going down on her a lot more enjoyable, actually, that there was no unpleasant odor or taste. And I loved how she squirmed under my mouth, and all the little sounds she made. I loved how her nails scratched my scalp and how she tugged on my hair. And I especially loved how she pulled me up her body to kiss me afterward, every single time.

This time was no different. After I had taken my time getting her prepared, she pulled me up with her chest heaving as she took quick breaths, and pushed her lips to mine. I kissed her slowly, calming her down a bit, and slid my pants and boxers down, kicking them away.

"Breathe, love," I told her softly, moving her up the bed.

Baz nodded and closed her eyes to concentrate on her breathing. I didn't think I could get her this excited, this wrecked.

When she was ready, she opened her eyes back up and gave me a nod, her breathing almost back to normal. I pecked her lips as I brought her legs up and around me, as I remembered I loved how she squeezed me between them when she got close. I positioned myself and watched her carefully as I sunk in.

I always enjoyed watching her face. She just looked so... perfect, always. Her eyelids would flutter shut, and her lips would part, opening in a little gasp. She'd usually look for something with her hands to hold onto, usually, it was me. I loved watching that pink tongue of hers poke out to lick her lips, and she would nod to let me know it was okay to move.

I started my pace out a bit slow, just remembering what she felt like, and oh, she felt so good. I compared her walls to velvet in my mind often, and I always made sure she was wet enough, practically dripping, to make it even better. And her warmth? The heat was scorching around me, and I loved every bit of it. My favorite bit was when she got close, her muscles would just start going crazy, and they would contract, tightening around me. That's probably what tipped me over the edge nine times out of ten.

And it was no different this time, either. When I increased my pace, keeping an eye on Baz to see how she was doing, and she was looking just beautiful, I let my hand come between us and collect a little wetness that leaked out of her to spread onto her clit and rub to help her along.

Baz spazzed a little with a moan, and her nails dug in a little on my shoulders. I missed that, too; finding little crescent-shaped marks on my shoulders and little scratches on my back.

I leaned down to kiss her, letting my tongue tangle with hers as I was becoming addicted to her taste all over again. I craved her lips, I wanted to kiss her constantly.

I think I'm insane.

Baz let out a series of high, quick moans before she came around me, and I wasn't but a second after her, leaning over her, breathing deep as my nerves tingled and fireworks went off behind my eyelids. I took a moment to just breathe before I pulled out and lied beside her.

"What do you think?" I started. "Few minutes, then next round?" I looked over and saw her staring at me.

"Sorry, did you think I would limit us to just one round?" I asked, and Baz fell into breathless laughter, which I couldn't help but join.

After a minute, Baz sat up and swung her leg over me to straddle me, and I propped myself up on my elbows, eager to meet her lips and get started again.


	19. Baz

I woke up the next morning, ready to get on my laptop and start sending in job applications to all the places I looked up yesterday that were hiring makeup artists.

But Sherlock had other plans.

"Up. Get up." He shook my arm.

"Why..." I groaned.

"I want to take you out." He said.

"I don't eat breakfast." I huffed.

"Lunch then. Get up. Get ready. How long do you take to get ready?" He then asked.

"Can range from twenty minutes to an hour, good luck guessing." I chuckled into the pillow.

"Baz..." He whined.

"Fuck, Sherlock. Okay. Jesus. Let me wake up first." I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Not like you kept me up until two a.m. or anything."

Sherlock didn't say anything but give me a smug smile. He came over and leaned down to speak low in my ear. "You loved every minute of it, and you know it." He hummed before kissing my cheek and standing back up again.

I rolled my eyes and got up to get a shower, grabbing two towels and going to the bathroom where my shampoo, shower gel, razor, lotion, and toothbrush and paste already were.

I got a quick shower and lotioned myself up when I dried. I brushed my teeth, my hair and body wrapped in a towel, and then walked back to his room. I checked the weather on my phone to decide what to wear and opted for a strapless leotard, jeans, and a jacket. I slid on my panties and the leotard but didn't feel like putting on jeans just yet.

I sat at my vanity, and sighed, deciding what I wanted to do today. I got my base on, did contour, blush, all that shit, and did my brows, and sat, just staring at my numerous eye palettes and colors.

Well... my jeans were dark blue, leotard was black, the jacket was brown with white fur... so just a neutral eye? Yeah, a neutral eye.

I did that quickly, did my liner, mascara, natural lashes, highlight, then sighed again as I stared at all the fucking lipsticks I had. I decided on nude and put on a yellow toned nude, and put my hair up in a bun as I waited for that to dry, then a little light pink lip gloss to just even the color out to a true nude.

I set that shit, put in some earrings, then pulled on my jeans and boots, grabbed my jacket and phone and went into the main room.

John was back, and I greeted him with a smile and saw Sherlock shrugging on his coat. I slid my phone in my pocket and put on my coat and left with him.

He hailed a cab and gave the driver a location, and played with my fingers for the ride.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I remembered last night that you used to talk about taking me to an art museum. Well, now I'm taking you to one." He gave me a little smile as I grew happy.

When we arrived, he led me in and handed me a brochure with a map of all the galleries. "Where shall we start?" Sherlock smiled at me as I bit my lip and read over the map.

"Greek and Roman. I'm a slut for both." I decided, and he tucked the brochure into his coat pocket and lead me through halls to the Greek and Roman art exhibits.

We spent a good few hours just looking at paintings, sculptures, and murals. I studied a lot of them closely, committing them to my memory.

"If I could, I'd pin you to one of these walls," Sherlock said in my ear, making me grin.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because you're a masterpiece." He kissed my cheek as I laughed.

"Sherlock, I love you, but that was your worst one yet." I smiled over at him, and he gave a small shrug.

"Good thing I know you don't mind. Even if they are downright horrible."

He then took me to the museum's restaurant, which was a bit expensive, but Sherlock didn't seem to care. He was amused when I got a Caesar salad and said that I was probably seeing subliminal messages in the paint from staring at it for so long.

"Hey, you can only laugh at their tiny dicks for so long before it gets old." I frowned, making Sherlock laugh a bit. "Okay, but seriously, was everyone back then a grower, not a shower? I'm so confused... also, why do half of them look like pig's tails?"

Sherlock just kept chuckling at me, and I sighed with a little smile on my face. "You don't understand. I'm legitimately curious. Is it like a height thing? Like how centuries ago, people were shorter, but we've just grown taller and taller? Is it the same with dick sizes?"

Sherlock then stopped laughing and hummed, furrowing his brows. "Okay, you've brought up a good point."

"But see, women haven't changed that much in that way. We're pretty much the same as we were however many hundred years ago." I hummed.

"Maybe we men had to evolve for population reasons? I have no idea." Sherlock shrugged.

"I need a historian who won't laugh at me." I sighed. I then remembered that incognito tabs existed and I Googled it.

"Motherfucker..." I sighed as I read the answer.

"You found something?" Sherlock looked up.

"It's because everyone valued the mind above the body back then," I said. "Greek philosophers were like rock stars and whatever, so when the classical artists would make naked men, they made their dicks tiny to make them look smarter because that was the trend back then. Philosophy and the mind over sexuality."

"So, no evolutionary reason at all." Sherlock hummed.

"Well, I mean, in a way, kind of." I shrugged, closing out of the tab and setting my phone on the table. "Our ideals of beauty have changed throughout time. Ideas and trends evolve."

"I suppose so." Sherlock nodded.

Later, when we were leaving the museum, he decided to joke about it. "I hope you don't mind that I have intelligence, but not minuscule genitals."

"Sherlock, I swear to God..." I sighed as he just laughed. "I'm not touching you for like, a week."

"Really? I had plans to pin you to my wall since I couldn't in there." He teased.

"Why are you so awful?" I groaned, trying not to laugh.

"You bring out the best in me, my love." He just smiled, and I turned and narrowed my eyes at him, smiling just a little.

"I'm the Libra, so I'm supposed to be the flirt. You're a Capricorn, so you're supposed to be wise and practical. Stop stealing my thunder!" I huffed, only half serious, and Sherlock just laughed and kissed me, making everything ten times better.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we ignore setting details because I'm lazy? Thanks.

The next time Sherlock and I were out, I was just in a pair of ripped shorts and a tank top, a flannel tied around my waist. I wasn't feeling too dressy today, it was a casual day.

My makeup was still perfect, though.

Sherlock got a call and groaned, and I just looked over as he answered, and quickly hung up. "I'm being summoned to Scotland Yard. Please come with me, you'll make it ten times more bearable."

I smiled a little at him, raising my eyebrows. "Would I be allowed in?"

"With me, yes." He took my hand and hailed a cab. When we arrived, he led me in and to an office where John and a gray-haired man I sort of recognized were.

"Who's this?" He asked.

"Baz." I smiled.

"His S.O." John nodded, and the guy's eyebrows raised, and Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"Lestrade." He said to me before turning to him. "What have you got for me?"

"Down in the morgue. It's a funny one, but you like the funny ones." Lestrade said and lead us down.

"Have you ever seen a body?" John asked me. "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine." I shrugged with a smile. "In high school, my Biology teachers wanted me to either be a surgeon or an autopsy technician, so I had to get used to dead things quick." I nodded slowly.

"But instead you became a makeup artist...?" John sounded confused.

I just held up my hands. "Steady ass hands. And a weird talent with dissection."

"She's not lying. She was suspended for a few days in our junior year for going a little too far with sheep eyeballs." Sherlock threw back a proud grin as we entered the morgue.

I stood back a bit to let them do their work, and let my eyes wander around a bit. I was doing my best to ignore the glare the woman in the lab coat was giving me.

"Baz," Sherlock called, and I looked over, and he held his hand out to me. I walked over, and his hand met my back and he looked at the corpse. "I want to know what you see."

I looked down at the pale man, first noticing the purple spotting all over him and his weight at the same time. My brows furrowed a little and I chewed the inside of my lip, not wanting to look stupid in front of four people at once. That was a bit too much for my anxiety.

"Come on. First thoughts." Sherlock hummed, his hand rubbing my back a little.

"I'm guessing those aren't bruises on him?" I asked.

"Nope. In fact, they appeared after death." Sherlock hummed.

"Okay..." I bit my lip again. "Well, to be honest, the first thought is that he probably ate something he shouldn't have. Maybe something poisonous? Something that wouldn't show until after he was dead."

"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock nodded, and I pursed my lips, trying to think of more.

"Did you check his fingertips?" I asked and Sherlock grinned.

"I was just about to." He said and the woman pulled out his hands. There were tiny red spots across his fingers, just like I suspected. I smiled a little, proud of myself for thinking up something.

"So, the question is, did he consume some sort of poison by accident, or was it given to him on purpose?" Sherlock said.

"Sorry, not following here," John said.

"Mr. Stevenson here is an obviously overweight man, so we're going to go ahead and assume he eats quite a bit. Did he eat something that had poison in it by accident which killed him and caused the purple spots? Was the poisonous food given to him on purpose, and it's murder?" Sherlock said.

"Okay, but what about his hands?" John asked.

"Baz?" Sherlock smiled at me, and I looked at John.

"Oh, um, well, generally looking at people similar to his body type, they're usually diagnosed with diabetes of some sort. Type one, type two, doesn't matter. The red marks on his fingers are from blood sugar tests. Maybe there was some poison on one of the papers that got into his bloodstream? Maybe something got slipped into his insulin shots if he took them." I gave a small shrug.

It was pretty quiet in the room, and I was looking away from everyone, trying not to look too nervous.

"Sorry, who are you?" The woman asked, staring at me, and I looked up.

"Baz," John said.

"Sherlock's S.O." Lestrade nodded, and I saw her brows raise.

"Baz, Molly. Molly, Baz." Sherlock said. "I'd like Mr. Stevenson's file, please, Molly." He said and she walked off to go grab it. Sherlock took some pictures of the spots on his phone as well as his fingertips and inner arms.

We soon left the morgue, Sherlock handing the file over to John to carry. His hand met my back again, and I looked up.

"Please don't make me speak in front of people again." I murmured.

"Sorry." He apologized and kissed my head. "You did very well, though."

"Hardly. I'm not a detective, I'm stupid." I shook my head.

"You're not stupid. I don't like hearing you say that about yourself. It's not true." Sherlock said lowly, only for me. I gave him a look and he sighed.

"We're talking about this later," Sherlock concluded, and I could only sigh and nod.


End file.
